Leftover Cherry Pie
got a goddamn brilliant
bestselling nonlinear novel
burning a hole in my hot little pocket
but I’m too enraged and engorged
to pull it out
no one would believe me
“you’re old, sit down”
“it’s probably a self-indulgent memoir in disguise”
“you shop too much”
“you’re gravity’s whore”
so I wallow in the four of cups
stone cold sober
feeling superior to writers with agents
and Paris infused selfies
“LOOK AT ME DRINKING CHAMPAGNE ON THE EIFFEL TOWER, BITCH!”
oh sweet constipated jesus
the purity of obscurity!
baby let me tell ya
it is more delicious
than leftover
cherry pie
Horror Sleaze Trash 